The Stranger I Married

one beaming vicar.

Isabel could not help but offer a wide smile to everyone who approached their equipage in welcome. Grayson made a grand show of introducing her to the boisterous group, and she was greeted with great excitement.

For the next hour, she watched as Gray mingled. He spoke at length with the gentlemen he had labored alongside while building part of the stone wall, and deepened their regard with his ability to recall the names of their family members and neighbors. He lifted small children into the air, and reduced a group of smitten young girls to fits of giggles by complimenting their pretty hair ribbons.

All the while, Isabel basked in his charm from afar and fell so deeply in love, she ached all over with it. Her chest grew tight, and her heart clenched. The innocent infatuation she had felt for Pelham was nothing, nothing compared to the mature joy she found with Grayson.

“His father had the same charisma,” the dowager said beside her. “My other sons do not display it in quite the same measure and I am afraid their wives will dilute the trait further. A pity it will not be passed down from Grayson, who has it in such abundance.”

Shielded by her enjoyment of the day, Isabel shrugged off the usual irritation she felt with the dowager. “Who can foretell what traits a child will bear when it has yet to be conceived?”

“Since Grayson assured me back at the manse that he has no wish to beget issue off you, I think it’s safe to say that he will not be passing along any traits at all.”

Isabel glanced aside at her mother-in-law. With her once pretty features shielded by the brim of her hat, the dowager revealed no outward sign to the milling guests of the ugliness hidden beneath the facade. But that underlying rot was all Isabel could see.

“What are you talking about?” she snapped, turning to face her antagonist head-on. She could take poorly veiled barbs, but pure undiluted venom was too much.

“I offered my felicitations to Grayson on his decision to dedicate himself to preserving the title as he should.” The dowager’s chin lowered, shielding her eyes, but still revealing the smug curve to her thin lips. “He was quick to assure me that Emily is the only woman who would ever carry a child of his. He loved her, and she is irreplaceable.”

Isabel’s stomach roiled at the sudden remembrance of Gray’s happiness over Em’s condition. Thinking back, she found she couldn’t recall a time since his return when Grayson had ever mentioned wanting to have children with her. Even last night, he had avoided the subject rather than address it, stressing that his brothers would see to the task of begetting an heir. “You lie.”

“Why would I lie about something so easily disproved?” the dowager asked with mock innocence. “Truly, Isabel, you two are the most mismatched pair. Of course, if you can put aside any desire for children of your own and live with the knowledge that Grayson’s heir will be the product of another woman, you may manage to rub along with some semblance of contentment.”

Isabel’s hands clenched into fists, and she fought the urge to hiss and scratch like a furious cat. Or cry. She couldn’t decide which. But she knew either response would only give the dowager an advantage. So she managed a smile and a shrug. “I will take great pleasure in proving you wrong.”

Moving a short distance away, she rounded the trunk of a large tree. There, safe from prying eyes, she fell back against the rough bark, heedless of the dirt and possible damage to her gown. Shaking, she laced her fingers together and took deep breaths. She could not appear less than fully composed.

Despite everything inside her that told her to have faith, to believe that she was good enough for Grayson, to trust that he cared for her and wanted her happiness, there was still the voice inside her that reminded her that Pelham had found her lacking.

“Isabel?”

As Grayson stepped beneath the shade of the tree, she met his concerned gaze. “Yes, my lord?”

“Are you well?” he asked, stepping closer. “You look pale.”

She waved her hand carelessly. “Your mother is stirring the pot again. It’s nothing. A moment and I will regain my composure.”

The warning rumble in his throat soothed her, the sound of a man ready to defend his mate. “What did she say to you?”

“Lies, lies, and more lies. What recourse is left to her? You and I are no longer estranged, and we share the same bed, so the only thing she could wound me with was the topic of children.”

Gray tensed visibly, something she noted with a flare of unease.

“What about children?” he asked gruffly.

“She claims you do not want any with me.”

He stood unmoving for a long while and then winced. Her heart stopped, and then caught in her throat.

“Is it true?” Her hand lifted to her bosom. “Gerard?” she prodded when he did not answer.

Growling, he looked away. “I want to give you things, all things. I want to make you happy.”

“But no children?”

His jaw tightened.

“Why?” she cried, her heart breaking.

Lifting his gaze to hers, he bit out, “I will not lose you. I cannot lose you. Risking you to childbirth is not an option.”

Stumbling away, Isabel covered her mouth.

“For God’s sake, don’t look at me like that, Pel! We can be happy just the two of us.”

“Can we? I remember the joy you felt when Emily was pregnant. I remember your exuberance.” Shaking her head, she pressed her fingertips hard against her lower lip to still its quivering. “I wanted to give you that.”

“Do you also remember my pain?” he asked, on the defensive. “What I feel for you is beyond anything I have ever felt for anyone. To lose you would destroy me.”

“You think I am too old for you.” Unable to bear the sight of his torment, which reflected her own, she stepped around him.

“This has nothing to do with age.”

“Yes, it does.”

Gray caught her arm as she walked by. “I promised you I would be enough, and I will be. I can make you happy.”

“Release me,” she said softly, meeting his gaze. “I need to be alone.”

The blue of his eyes swirled with frustration, fear, and a tinge of anger. None of that affected her. She was numb, as she had learned long ago how to be when pierced with a mortal wound.

No children.

Pressing a hand over her aching chest, she tugged the arm that was still trapped in his grip.

“I cannot allow you to go like this, Pel.”

“You have no choice,” she said simply. “You will not hold me against my will in front of all these people.”

“Then I shall go with you.”

“I want to be alone,” she reiterated.

Gerard stared at his wife’s frigid shell and felt a gulf between them so wide he wondered if they could cross it. Panic made his heart race and his breathing shallow. “For Christ’s sake, you never said anything about wanting children. You made me promise not to spill my seed in you!”

“That was before you made our temporary bargain into a permanent marriage!”

“How in hell was I to know that your feelings on the matter had changed?”

“Foolish me.” Her eyes burned with amber fire. “I should have said, ‘By the way, before I fall in love with you and want children, let me ask if you have any objections.’”

Before I fall in love with you…

At any other moment those words would have raised him to the heights. Now they cut him to the quick. “Isabel…” he breathed, tugging her closer. “I love you, too.”

She shook her head, causing the artless curls at her nape to sway violently. “No.” Her hand came up to ward him off. “That is the last thing I want to hear from you. I wanted to be a wife to you in all ways, I was willing to try, but you refuse me. We have nothing left now. Nothing!”

“What the devil are you talking about? We have each other.”